


Thick as Thieves

by SennyriNamis23



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: M/M, Mutual Pining, Nathema Conspiracy spoilers, cw for shoulder/chest injuries consistent with the game, do i still need to tag those spoilers?, mutual idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-15
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-02 13:34:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 14,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16306124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SennyriNamis23/pseuds/SennyriNamis23
Summary: After the events of Fractured Alliances, both Theron and Maraalor have to come to terms with what Theron did to betray the Alliance and how they can move forward with their own relationship. They both have to heal physically and emotionally and confront the things that have been festering long before Nathema.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Maraalor is NOT my canon Outlander or Alliance Commander. He is my canon Theron romancer, and his job in the Alliance is the chief physician.
> 
> Important Alliance Members:  
> Raelyn - Outlander and Alliance Commander  
> Kalina - Alliance Commander and Barsen'thor  
> Maire - Maraalor's twin sister who worked in SIS before she joined the Alliance, married to Jonas Balkar.
> 
> I'll introduce other characters as they appear so as not to overwhelm you all.

He was pacing a hole in the floor, running his hands along his lekku nervously, wrapping the fidgeting ends around his hands. Kalina put a hand to his shoulder as he spun to change his direction.

But the almighty Barsen’thor had nothing to say that would calm him.

Just as well. He stopped, stared straight ahead at nothing in particular. Where was Maire when he needed her? Gone. Off to Coruscant with Colonel Aoide and Master Aelacc to negotiate with senators and Generals and Jedi. Maraalor brought one hand to his eye and pressed his palm to it tiredly. Gods, how long had it been since he’d actually slept? Raelyn and Lana had left… 18 hours ago? And he’d been awake through the night, waiting for news. They were out gods’ know where at an abandoned listening post, looking for intel. On the Order of Zildrog, the enemy, the traitor, _Theron_. For obvious reasons, he wasn’t allowed to go with them.

Kalina held his hand firmly and kept herself planted, but she didn’t look at him. She looked like she hadn’t slept, either. The War Room was all but silent. Koth and Raj were on Zakuul, Arcann and Caoimhe were on her ship out in the Odessen forests, Senya was going for her early morning meditation by the water, Vaylin and Thastre were still out in the galaxy doing whatever it was they were doing. The base was only half filled, the rest out doing humanitarian or diplomatic work in the Republic and Empire. Just because there was a traitor that threatened their Alliance didn’t mean they could stop doing work.

But Maraalor had.

He put his free hand back up to his face and sighed deeply, exhale coming out ragged.

The commcenter beeped and the two blue figures of the Sith women manifested.

“This is Shuttle five-four-one-eight to Odessen,” Lana greeted coldly from the pilot’s seat.

Kalina replied, “We read you, Lana. What did you find?”

Raelyn pushed herself off the console she leaned on, “The situation is complicated. Theron may or may not have been trying to help us, and we have a set of coordinates on Nathema. Theoretically, that’s where Zildrog is.”

Maraalor put his hand to his mouth to keep a squeak from escaping. No one had even _said his name_ in his presence in months.

“Zildrog is the superweapon, then?” Kalina replied calmly, squeezing his hand in hers, “Another machine god?”

Raelyn shrugged, “Probably. But all we have are conjectures at this point.”

Kalina nodded, “That’s quite a risk you’re taking, Raelyn, but it seems we don’t have much of a choice.”

The Sith nodded, crossing her arms over her chest, “The Alliance is at stake. We can’t let this go.”

“I’m going with you,” Maraalor heard himself blurt out - his mouth apparently didn’t consult with his brain first.

The room looked to him and he pulled his hand out of Kalina’s. He took a deep breath and stood as tall as he could.

“You’re going to need a doctor if you’re going to Nathema again,” he explained, pausing as he took another breath, “And I need to confront Theron myself. He has a lot of explaining to do.”

\---

Nathema was beautiful in an eerie and decrepit way. Since Vaylin had returned with Thastre to heal, the planet had come back to life, it seemed, with new green vines on the rocks, small colorful plants cropping up in budding groves, freshly formed bodies of water sparkling in the midafternoon sun. It made the architecture of the temple even more striking against the wild and still broken landscape. The Force was taking back what was once its own.

Raelyn and Lana stood together at the foot of the shuttle’s ramp, lightsabers in their hands and ready. New wildlife meant new dangers. Plus, you know, there was a cult here looking to fuck up the galaxy. They probably came with droids and fighters. Or whatever it was cults wielded these days.

Maraalor took three shaky steps down the ramp and already regretted coming along. But he wasn’t about to turn back now. He’d paced and thought and _drank_ far too much these past months. He needed answers from the mouth of the beast himself.

They trekked silently through the natural pathways to the coordinates supposedly-Theron had given them, the two girls easily dispatching whatever wildlife they crossed. Raelyn kept tabs on him, but he was Jedi and a doctor, dammit, he could take care of himself! A little emotional hell wouldn’t keep him from doing his goddamn job. He thrust a disc of healing energy at her for her trouble and she just smirked at him. Lana tugged on her sleeve and immediately took her attention, and Maraalor couldn’t help the pang of jealousy in his chest. Their wedding rings hung from identical chains around their necks, and they fought beside each other as though they truly were one - so comfortable in each other’s presence that they hardly needed to speak to understand exactly what the other needed.

Maraalor couldn’t remember a time when he and Theron had had that, even before this whole mess.

They rounded a corner and Lana stopped them, looking at the small datapad on the wrist of her glove.

“These are the coordinates,” she announced, “I’m guessing Zildrog isn’t here.”

“No,” a voice, rough and tired, came from one of the boulders behind them. Lana and Raelyn immediately ignited their lightsabers when Theron emerged, and he dropped his blaster to the ground and put his hands up in surrender, “Sorry I’m late, I needed to give them the slip.”

Raelyn immediately disengaged her lightsaber and put her hands lightly to Lana’s elbow to encourage her to do the same.

“Theron,” she said with a brisk nod.

“Raelyn, Lana,” his eyes widened as he saw the Togruta with him, his voice choking as he sputtered out the final name, “Maraalor. It’s… it’s good to see you.”

“ _It’s good to see you_!?” he cried, all but leaping for the traitor, “Is that all you have to say, Theron? Whose side are you really on? Are you just going to take us to your masters, let them kill us for you? What in the hell are you doing? Why did you do it? Why didn’t you _talk to me_?”

He wanted to reach out, but he didn’t know if he’d kiss the spy or strangle him. It would have been easy to hold out his hand, to take his throat with the Force, to crush him, to end this. Raelyn put her arm out in front of his chest to stop him, firmly reminding him that she was the stronger one of them, that she was in charge. Ha, what irony. A Sith keeping a Jedi from strangling his own boyfriend.

Theron took a deep breath, “I’m on your side, the Alliance. My contacts took months to get information on these guys, and by the time I found out, it was too late. The GEMINI droid, I don’t know how she did it, but she had eyes on everything we did and said. I couldn’t say anything or the whole mission would be exposed. I had to convince them the betrayal was real,” he looked into Maraalor’s green eyes with his amber ones, radiating shame and grief with his eyes, “You can’t imagine how difficult it was for me to do that to you.”

Maraalor snorted out of his nose, “It was pretty fucking difficult for _the rest of us_.”

“Maraalor,” Raelyn warned, “We can sort out the details later, but for now Theron is our only chance at stopping Zildrog from destroying our friends and our home.”

“I don’t like it either,” Lana noted, “But we don’t have much of a choice.”

Theron picked up his blaster and led them into the forest again, Raelyn and Lana right behind him, and Maraalor a little farther back.

\---

His traitorous heart swelled a little as Theron took a shot for Vinn Atrius’ shoulder and followed it with “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

_Stop that. He tried to kill us all, for fuck’s sake!_

Pride was quickly replaced with adrenaline and fear as the terminal hummed to life and Zildrog manifested before them. He felt the nervousness of both Raelyn and Lana beside him, but Theron, as always, was dark when he reached out for him. But he didn’t have any time to ponder that thought for the millionth time.

Hylo was sending an emergency message to Raelyn about the Gravestone, how it was going rogue and destroying the Eternal Fleet. All he thought was how devastated Koth and Raj would be when they found out. Raelyn was already coordinating shuttles off planet with Hylo, despite the fact that there was a murderbot and _an angry Zakuulan god_ standing right in front of them. But even while her aura shook and shuddered and raged, she spoke calmly and thought rationally. He supposed that was why she was the Alliance Commander and he was just the base healer.

Regardless, when the GEMINI droid attacked, he was only mostly prepared for it, skidding backwards from her forceful attack, feeling the platform fall out from under his feet. And as he started plummeting, a hand reached down and hauled him back up.

“Whoa there,” Theron said as Maraalor stood again, hand still in his. Their eyes met again and for a moment, Maraalor forgot about the droid, about the machine god, about everything that had happened in the last four months. Theron’s hand was warm in his, and his eyes were tired.

Raelyn screamed from behind them, and he unceremoniously ripped his hand out of Theron’s grip. The droid was battered and dented in several places, but Lana was on the ground holding her shoulder painfully. Instinct kicked in and as Raelyn avenged her wife’s injury, Maraalor tended to her. There was a crash behind them as Raelyn and Theron landed respective shots at the same time - Theron’s shot ripped through an exposed socket, and Raelyn buried her lightsaber up to the hilt from its shoulder to its hips. Or, whatever the droid equivalent to those were.

“We have to keep Zildrog from recharging!” Theron cried, sprinting for the terminal.

Maraalor turned his back to him for just a moment, reaching out to Lana with the Force to heal her injury. Raelyn kneeled on the floor with them, taking her wife’s uninjured arm and holding it worriedly.

There was a flash of warning, something violet and visceral, something deep and primal in his subconscious. Instinctively, he twisted and pushed out with the Force with a cry - but Vinn Atrius had gotten too close, and his saber pike was already extended, the force of Maraalor’s push dragging the saber through Theron’s shoulder rather than the center of his chest.

He screamed in pain, and the three of them lurched up and towards them, and even as Vinn launched Theron into Lana and sent both of them crashing to the ground, Maraalor saw the gaping hole in his shoulder where the lightsaber struck. He looked in a panic from Theron to Vinn to Raelyn and Lana and back again to Theron. He stood rooted to the ground, his traitor of a heart in his throat. He shouldn’t care, he shouldn’t be affected like this, he shouldn’t be freezing. But he couldn’t feel his feet beneath him and he couldn’t get his legs to move. He just kept switching his gaze from one person to another.

Raelyn and Lana did not hesitate, immediately igniting their lightsabers and facing down Vinn Atrius.

But Maraalor didn’t know what to do.

“Maraalor!” Raelyn called, “Keep him alive! Lana and I can take care of this scum.”

Without any further ado, both women launched themselves at Vinn Atrius, and Maraalor was left in the shadows, lightsaber in his hand at his side but sheathed. He fell to his knees without any grace whatsoever and put shaking hands to Theron’s back. He tried to focus, tried to gather the Force in his hands, tried to do the one thing he was good at, and he _couldn’t_. The Force fizzled in his hands as they shook and his shoulders shuddered as he cried.

“No, no, no, no, no,” he muttered, “Not like this. If you’re going to die, I’m going to be the one who pulls the trigger.”

Raelyn made some sort of primal scream behind him, and Atrius grunted when something hit him. Well, if he couldn’t channel the Force with peace, he would just have to do it with anger. It wouldn’t be the first time.  He thought back to Rishi, the first time he saw Theron injured, when Revan had talked to him and he was _so angry_ he nearly self-destructed the building himself. Thank the Force Lana had sliced in and stopped him.

He sat back on his feet and focused on his anger, gathering the Force in his hands - purple now rather than its normal gold - and he gently pushed it through the injury in Theron’s chest, going with its ebbs and flows as he worked to stabilize him. The battle raged behind him between the two girls and Atrius and Zildrog, but Maraalor hardly noticed.

“M’aalor,” Theron grunted, face still against the cold platform.

He did nothing at first, only continuing to heal him, but as soon as Theron was stable enough to move a little, Maraalor rolled him onto his back. He spread his hands over Theron’s torso and sent purple tendrils of the Force through him. Theron breathed through his teeth at the sensation, reaching out for Maraalor’s hand and squeezing it tightly.

“Maraalor,” Theron repeated, a little stronger, but his voice still cracked halfway through.

Maraalor just shook his head, “Shh, we can talk later.”

“Not sure there’ll be a later.”

Maraalor frowned, “What kind of shit healer do you think I am?”

Theron smiled a little, but his brow was furrowed and he shuddered as he inhaled, already losing his tenuous grasp on consciousness, “Not… not what I meant.”

Maraalor put a hand to Theron’s forehead, urged the muscles to relax and let him sleep. “Take it easy, Theron,” he whispered.

A moment later, Raelyn put a hand to his shoulder, “Zildrog is dead.”

He looked up to her, checking her over for injuries as he reported, “Theron’s alive, but I need to get him back to my own facilities.”

Raelyn nodded, “Let’s go home.”


	2. Chapter 2

The shuttle ride back to Odessen was quiet. Relief bled off of Raelyn and Lana as the former called into the base and the latter piloted them back home. Apparently there had been very few casualties, and minimal damage done to the base, though both the Eternal Fleet and the Gravestone were irreparable. Koth and Raj were both apparently inconsolable.

Maraalor chewed on his bottom lip as he bit back the anger and frustration that had fueled him earlier. Master Satele would probably have a few words for him in regards to his technique, but given he’d used his anger to save her son, he figured she might not scold him terribly harshly. He smiled a little at the memories of his lessons on Tython as a teenager, when he’d first started training in healing.

Theron twitched uncomfortably beside him, bringing him reeling back to reality. And to chewing on his lip again. After they’d made it back to the ship, he’d applied a kolto pack to Theron’s injuries - which, unsurprisingly, were more than just the gaping lightsaber burn through his shoulder and lung. He didn’t trust his own ability to heal him now that the adrenaline had bled from his body and he couldn’t get his head to focus on anything for more than about ten seconds. It would keep Theron stable until they returned home, even if he wasn’t terribly comfortable. Maraalor untangled one of his hands from his lekku and slid it in Theron’s.

He tried not to look at the atrocity of a haircut on his head. Or the scars around his implants that hadn’t been there before. Or the way his brow furrowed when Maraalor moved his hand. He really tried not to look at Theron at all.

But he opened those golden eyes and smiled a little and Maraalor’s gut swirled like it had seven years ago when he first set foot in Darok’s office.

“Hey,” Theron greeted quietly.

Maraalor swallowed, “Hey.”

They sat in silence for a moment, neither of them knowing what to say. All of Maraalor’s earlier rage had dissipated, whether from seeing Theron inches from death or from the exhaustion set deep in his bones, he couldn’t say. But it left him feeling empty. Theron squeezed his hand and closed his eyes again for a moment.

Finally Maraalor broke the silence in the only way he knew how, “How’s your pain? One to ten?”

Theron grunted and shifted like he was trying to shrug, “Dunno, was trying not to think about it. Maybe an eight? Seven?”

Somehow, Maraalor dug deep and managed to send tendrils of golden-colored Force through Theron’s injuries, “Is that what you actually feel? Or what you think you deserve to feel?”

He deflated significantly and turned his head to the side, away from the Togruta, “What I deserve is an eleven. I deserve to be left to die on that planet for what I did to the Alliance. To you.”

Maraalor sighed, “No one deserves that, Theron. Not even Vinn was left to die in that temple.”

Theron paused and replied slowly, “Huh. Guess I misjudged the Commander. Not the first time.”

“Thanks to her, it won’t be the last, either.”

Theron tried to smile, but just ended up pressing his lips together in a grimace. An awkward and heavy silence fell over the two of them again. Maraalor absently rubbed his thumb against Theron’s and stared off into the distance. He wished his traitorous heart didn’t ache so much.

“I’m sorry, Maraalor,” Theron said finally, almost too quietly to be heard at all.

Maraalor froze; he’d imagined this conversation so many times. He imagined so many ways he would have reacted. Screaming arguments, sobbing cries, professions of love and hate and horror. But now that the time had come for it, he was simply too tired for any of that.

“I know,” he replied simply. He stared at the lekku wrapped around his hand.

Theron squeezed his hand, “I didn’t want to hurt you.”

He nodded, “I know.”

“I would never hurt you,” he repeated, “I love you, Maraalor.”

He swallowed hard and squeezed his eyes shut. He couldn’t do this, not now. Not while Theron was still in critical condition and everyone on the shuttle was operating on fumes. Tears threatened in his eyes, but he pulled his hand out of Theron’s and wiped them hastily with the back of it.

“I know you do,” he whispered finally.

Theron didn’t know what to say to that. It was obvious he was hoping for Maraalor to return those words, and his acknowledgement but lack of reciprocation had clearly wounded him. But Maraalor couldn’t say it. He’d wrestled with his feelings for Theron for months now. And he wasn’t sure himself if he still loved him. To tell Theron now that he did and figure out later that he didn’t would be a worse fate for both of them.

After a moment, Maraalor put his hand to Theron’s forehead, ran his thumb over the scars around his temple and the implants embedded there. It didn’t take much Force to make Theron sleep again.

“Get some rest,” Maraalor whispered, bringing his hands to his face and resting his elbows on his knees, “We’ll figure this mess out later.”

Someone knocked on the doorframe quietly.

“Maraalor? Are you alright?”

Raelyn’s thick Imperial accent still surprised him from time to time, and he flinched a little before he took his hands from his face and looked over to her. She was leaning against the frame, arms crossed over her chest, but her eyes were bloodshot and one of the injuries that she’d walked off earlier was bothering her now.

He sighed heavily, “I’m not sure I’ve ever been ‘alright’. But I’m certainly not now.”

She pushed off the doorframe and moved to him silently, sitting in front of him cross-legged and taking his hands in hers.

“I don’t know what I was expecting,” he explained, “he explained his actions, but everything still seems muddy. I don’t know, maybe I wanted it to be clearer than it actually is. Wanted him to tell me it never happened. How are you so stoic? You’re the one he tried to kill. Multiple times.”

Raelyn smiled a little and looked at her lap, “Unfortunately, this isn’t my first go around. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, of course, but perhaps I can put it into perspective a bit better. Baras tried to have me killed three times, after all.”

Maraalor smiled a little at the way she said it.

“There is something fundamentally different about a lover’s betrayal,” she continued slowly, “You may not have been on that train on Umbara, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t hurt more than I was.”

He shuddered as she said it, and she squeezed his hands in comfort. Having feelings was literally the worst thing to have ever happened to Maraalor Telosi. The Jedi Code was right and he was completely and totally regretting having not paid enough attention in those classes in his youth.

“If it helps any, I very nearly did kill Malavai when he betrayed me. And I was very much not in love with him. All things considered, you handled the situation far better than I would have were I in your position.”

He blew out of his nose forcefully, “That was almost entirely due to you holding me back at the time.”

She shrugged, “It wouldn’t have mattered. You channeled your anger into healing when he needed you, Maraalor. Regardless of your feelings, you saved him.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond, so he let the comment hang in the air for a moment, staring at his feet.

“What do I do now, Raelyn?” he finally let out, “Theron is back, and I have no idea if I still love him or not.” He felt himself cracking and breaking in her hands.

Raelyn took a deep breath, “You take it one step at a time. First, do what you do best. Make sure he heals physically. Then, talk about what happened, just the two of you. And if he’s willing to put the work into earning your trust and love again, see where that goes. If he’s not, then kick him to the curb. I’ll make sure he’s never back on base again.”

“What if I don’t ever love him again?”

“Then that’s alright,” she reassured, “Maraalor, he hurt you very deeply-”

“He hurt both of us-” he protested, but she shook her head.

“But _you_ in particular. He hurt you in ways that he could never touch me or the Alliance. If you can’t forgive him, that’s understandable. If you can forgive him but can’t love him, that’s understandable, too. Sure, it would be lovely if you two got back together and lived out the rest of your days together, but it might not work out that way. And there’s nothing wrong with that. Take it slowly, see where your new relationship - romantic or otherwise - goes. I’ll have your back no matter what.”

“But, Theron… he was your friend, too.”

Raelyn shrugged casually, “He was. He might still be. But I love you a whole hell of a lot more than I love him. Especially at this moment.”

He remembered Rishi when Lana had let Theron walk into a trap - how the two of them had fought and bickered and made passive aggressive comments about each other. He and Raelyn had been caught in the middle, desperately seeking each other in their island surrounded by fire. He didn’t want her to go through that again if he and Theron came to blows.

“Maraalor,” she said again, apparently hearing his thoughts, “I’ve already made my decision in this. Don’t worry about me.”

He looked her over, “Am I allowed to worry about the hip injury you’re avoiding telling me about? Or the spinal injury you’re _still_ recovering from?”

Raelyn stood and laughed, filling the small cabin with warmth, “If that’ll make you feel better.”

Maraalor frowned but playfully, “Promise you’ll stop by my office when we get back?”

She ran her hands over his montrals affectionately, “Sure thing, Doc.”


	3. Chapter 3

When Theron awoke again, he was back on the Odessen base, in one of the hospital rooms with blinding white lights and stark white sheets and an impersonal white medical droid hovering beside him. He groaned and shut his eyes again.

“Good morning,” Maraalor said coolly beside him.

The sound of his voice so close got his attention and he opened his eyes again, searching desperately for him. It didn’t take much searching. Maraalor held Theron’s wrist in his long blue fingers, checking his pulse. He held a datapad in his other hand, casually recording other data points. His rich violet lekku were wrapped around his neck loosely, the stripes even more noticeable against his white medical coat. Theron couldn’t read his face, being turned at an awkward angle vaguely away from him. And as Maraalor pulled his hand off Theron’s, he reached out for him and took it.

Maraalor looked over to him, equally pained and frustrated, but didn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry,” Theron said quietly, “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“I know,” came Maraalor’s response as he slowly pulled his hand out of Theron’s hold and went back to typing into the datapad.

He’d said the same thing on the shuttle, back when Theron could barely keep his own thoughts in order.

“Can… can you forgive your idiot spy boyfriend?”

Maraalor sighed and sat on the stool beside the bed, putting his datapad down on the nightstand, “I don’t know, Theron.”

He scrunched his face, “You don’t know?”

Maraalor shook his head. He looked exhausted. “I don’t. Please, imagine if our places had been reversed. If I’d betrayed the Alliance and you and tried to destroy everything we’d worked for-”

“I was _saving_ the Alliance!”

“-And said not so much as a word-”

“I didn’t have a choice! I couldn’t tell anyone, not even you!”

For once, Maraalor didn’t rise to Theron’s emotional levels. He stared at his trembling hands on the edge of the bed and spoke quietly, “You always have a choice, Theron. You could have told me if you’d really wanted to.”

He blew out of his nose in annoyance, only to feel a ripple of pain through his chest. Maraalor spread his hand over his injury and sent swirls of golden light through him without a second thought, but not once did he meet Theron’s eyes.

“What are you saying, Maraalor?” he asked pointedly, his heart aching as the Togruta flinched at his name, “That I don’t love you because I wouldn’t compromise my mission to tell you I was going deep undercover? That we’re over because I did the right thing?” His chest burned as he continued, but he didn’t heed it any attention.

Maraalor blinked slowly and looked up at the ceiling, eyes glossed over, “That’s… not what I’m saying, Theron.”

“Then, please, by all means, tell me. Call me the nasty names I know you’ve thought of, tell me we’re through, tell me you don’t love me.”

The first tear fell as Maraalor stood up, rolling down his soft blue cheek. He shook his head as he walked to the door without looking back. He stopped in the doorway for a moment, as if he was thinking about turning around and getting the last word in. But he didn’t say anything, his shoulders heaved once and he went into the hallway, unwrapping his lekku and coiling them around his hands.

Theron rubbed at his eyes with his thumb, grimacing at the way the movement pulled at his chest. The medical droid hovered a little closer and started fussing with his implants, but he just shooed it off.

He looked out the window into the hallway again, perhaps secretly hoping to see a glimpse of Maraalor again. But there wasn’t anyone out there.

He’d done the right thing. He’d saved the Alliance.

Why did he feel so guilty about it?

\---

Raelyn was in his office when he finally got back, sitting in the chair across from his desk, lazily flicking through a datapad of reports.

“I’m assuming that didn’t go particularly well,” she noted dryly.

Maraalor slumped into his chair and put his hands to his face, “Couldn’t have gone worse. Absolutely terrible.”

The Sith shifted in her chair, “Anything I can do for you?”

He shook his head, “No… no, I just need to meditate, clear my head.”

“Would you like some space?”

He rubbed at his eyes with his hands in frustration, “Yes? Maybe? I don’t know. You don’t have to babysit me, I’m a grown ass man.”

Raelyn sighed, “I wasn’t suggesting you weren’t.”

As the chair scraped against the floor, he looked up at her again. She stood not entirely gracefully and turned to leave, her light shirt shifting over the kolto implant on her back. After Theron’s betrayal on Iokath, it was a miracle that Raelyn had recovered as well as she had - but even she couldn’t just brush off major spinal injuries without help. With much loud disapproval, Maraalor had managed to outfit her armor to keep her spine protected so she could continue her suicidal missions as Alliance Commander, but even months later it was obvious she still lived with a not insignificant amount of pain. She might always.

“Raelyn, wait,” he called out as she reached the threshold.

She stopped, putting her hand on the doorframe.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” he said quietly, “Are you okay? Do you want me to look at your injuries?”

She flashed him a knowing grin, “That is why you asked me here, isn’t it?”

Maraalor frowned, “That’s not… the _only_ reason.”

Raelyn just laughed and waved him off as she took her seat again, “I know. But if you had said ‘Raelyn, I need you to fill in for Maire while I figure out how to deal with my boyfriend’, I may not have shown up.”

He stood behind her and stretched his hands, “I’m surprised you actually came to get medical help. Normally I have to track you down at lunch or lock down your ship to get you to see me.”

Streams of golden light flowed from his palms as he concentrated his energies on the Force, flowing around and through the woman in front of him.

“Ahh, you can thank Lana for that,” Raelyn replied with a chuckle, sitting perfectly still beneath his hands.

“Mmm why am I not surprised?” he joked, pushing aside the ache in his heart. But the Force faltered in his hands, which did not go unnoticed.

Raelyn turned in her seat to meet his eyes, “Maraalor… do you need a hug?”

The Force dissipated abruptly. He looked vaguely down at the floor. He sniffed and nodded, unaware until this moment just how much he _did_ need a hug from a friend.

Four seconds later, Raelyn’s arms were around him tightly, his face buried in the crook of her neck. She wasn’t as tall as Theron was, he couldn’t bury himself in the folds of her jacket, and she didn’t smell like dirt and leather and sweat and disaster. But he would have taken a hug from a rancor at that point.

“Thank you,” he sighed.

Raelyn squeezed him and rubbed her hands up and down his back, “Anytime.”

\---

The next time Theron awoke, it was dark and quiet in the hospital room. There was nobody to greet him this time - even the medical droid set to monitor him was recharging in one of the corners of the room. Moonlight filtered in from his window, casting soft shadows on the equipment and sparse furniture. The hospital was one of the few places on the Odessen base that had true windows and looked out over the wilds. One of the things Maraalor had insisted upon in the blueprints was that his patients could see the sun, feel its warmth. He needed them to have something to look forward to in those little rooms, even if it was just watching a sunset they wouldn’t normally get to see inside the base.

A little bit of color caught Theron’s eye and he looked over to the desk to see his old red jacket hanging on the back of the chair, neatly pressed and cleaner than he ever remembered it.

He smiled sadly as he remembered how many times Maraalor would hang it up properly so it wouldn’t wrinkle and get it cleaned overnight so Theron couldn’t whine about not being able to wear it.

_It’s the nicest piece of clothing you own, I’m not letting you ruin it because you don’t believe in doing laundry that can’t go through the spin cycle._

He was surprised that Maraalor had still taken the time and effort to clean it and hang it and put it in his view. It was painfully domestic and reminiscent of the days before the Cult of Zildrog. The only things missing were Maraalor’s medical robes hung beside his jacket, and, well… Maraalor himself.

Theron put a hand to his head and groaned, hearing the door open a few seconds later as someone entered. His heart thumped as he thought about who it might have been.

He was both relieved and disappointed when the Togruta’s voice didn’t follow.

“Heya there, champ.”

Theron pulled his hand off his face and shook his head, “Jonas Balkar. What are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be out doing good deeds?”

The other spy laughed and sat casually on the seat next to the bed - the one without the red jacket. Theron’s eyes flickered to it again and back to Jonas.

“Are you saying that visiting you after this debacle isn’t doing a good deed?” he accused cheerfully, putting his boots up on the foot of the bed and reclining. Jonas always could make himself at home anywhere.

Theron just shook his head, “What are you doing here, Jonas? It’s like three in the morning.”

“Eh, I’m still on Coruscant time,” he said, waving off the remark, “Came to see how you were holding up.”

Theron squinted at him, “Maire sent you in, didn’t she?”

Jonas raised his eyebrows, “Would you have preferred to see her at this moment in time? When her brother’s heart is broken because of you?”

He closed his eyes and let his head sink back into the pillow, “No…”

There was a moment of silence in the room as Jonas let him mull his thoughts over.

“Is he alright?”

“Who, Maraalor? I don’t think that man’s been alright a day in his life,” Jonas replied, tipping the seat back and balancing it on its two back legs.

Theron just glared at him out of the corner of his eyes, “You know what I meant, Balkar.”

“Course I did, _Shan_. Just didn’t think you really wanted to know the answer to that question.”

He exhaled slowly, trying not to agitate his injuries, “I really hurt him, didn’t I?”

Jonas nodded and found something particularly interesting under one of his fingernails, “That you did, my man.”

Theron paused again, “I… I don’t understand. I _couldn’t_ tell him, Jonas. I don’t know what he expected me to do. I’m a spy, not a telepath. I-I apologized! I explained as soon as I could! I won’t apologize for saving the Alliance, but I apologized for hurting him in the process!”

He sighed and eased the chair back to the floor, folding his hands and putting his elbows on his knees, looking at Theron seriously, “Wasn’t the betrayal that did it, Theron. Well, not entirely, anyway.”

“What?”

Jonas took another deep breath, as if having a serious conversation like this was physically paining him, “You apologized all wrong, champ. Made it all about you, didn’t even ask how he was feeling. Even just now, you’re acting like you’re the injured party here.”

Theron scrunched his face, stuttered through the beginnings of five or six different replies, but gave up and pushed his head further into the pillow.

“He does understand why you turned traitor, Theron,” he bit at one of his fingernails, refusing to look at him, “But it’s still gonna take awhile for him to process it. And you did try to get Raelyn killed like four times. That’s super not helping your cause.”

“She probably wants my head, too, huh?”

Jonas shrugged, biting at another nail, “Nah, not really. But word on the street is if you can’t make it work with Maraalor, she’ll kick you to the curb, no questions asked.”

Theron turned his head to look at his friend, eyebrows furrowed, “How do you know all that?”

Jonas looked right at him this time without blinking, “I’m a _spy_ , Theron. It’s sort of what I get paid to do. That lightsaber knock your brains around, too?”

Probably.

He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes with his hand, “Sorry, three in the morning isn’t my best time.”

Jonas laughed and stood, putting a hand to Theron’s shoulder, “Well, I’ll take that as my cue to leave then. Maire and I will be here for a couple weeks, at least, so if you need someone who isn’t likely to want to kill you, you know how to find me.”

“Thanks.”

“No problem, buddy,” he said with a nod, “That’s what friends are for, yeah?”

Theron had a feeling he was going to be in short supply of friends for a long time at this point.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mention a couple of my own OCs in this chapter-  
> Aranth'astre'nemil is my Darth Imperius. Technically, she's one of 3 canon Inquisitors, but she herself doesn't go through the ghost-eating timeline of the Inquisitor. Sometime I'll actually write the story of how she and Vaylin get together. It's cute, I promise.
> 
> Toh'laji is a retired Republic Army veteran, specializing in field medicine. She made the transition into proper hospital work after she retired (about twenty years before this story). She and her wife, Alema'tann, are the cute old lesbian Twi'lek couple who are the gold standard of how supportive and loving relationships should be.

_In peace, there is passion._   
_In knowledge, there is strength._   
_In serenity, there is power._   
_In harmony, there is victory._   
_There is no death, there is the Force._   
_And the Force shall set me free._

The Force enclave was not a place Maraalor had ever really spent a lot of time before, if he was being honest. He didn’t usually need a place steeped in the Force in order to meditate, and he wasn’t particularly regular in his meditations anyway. The soft beeping and ticking of medical equipment put his mind at ease far more than the ebbs and flows of the Force.

But he sat here now, face-to-face with Aranth’astre’nemil, the former Darth Imperius. Known to everyone on the base simply as Thastre. Her presence, as always, was one of calmness, of the serenity the Jedi Code preached though she’d trained on Korriban as a Sith. She was more at one with herself and the Force than anyone Maraalor had met before, which is perhaps what drew him to meditate with her that morning. Spending time with Raelyn was all well and good, but her fire and passion bled into him, and he had spent the last week running on fumes alone.

He needed respite, not fury.

“If your thoughts demand to wander, allow them,” Thastre urged him gently, “Meditation will not control your thoughts, but give you pause on them.”

He nodded. His thoughts, as always, returned to Theron. To the traitor spy recovering eighteen floors above where he sat now. To his tragedy of a haircut. To the apology Theron had given him. To the argument that ensued. To the red jacket he’d carefully placed in the room with him anyway.

His heart was heavy in his chest, the weight of it pulling down on him.

“I don’t suppose this is a problem ice cream can fix?” came the sing-song voice of the former Empress of Zakuul as she plopped down between the two of them, handing Maraalor a little tub of the stuff.

Anywhere else in the galaxy it would have been an absolute scene for Vaylin Tirall to waltz around with three containers of ice cream in her hands.

“Well? Come on, take it! It’s good, I promise.”

Maraalor hesitated, wondering if his lactose intolerance was more deadly than Vaylin’s disappointment. He took the small container.

Thastre leaned over and pressed a small kiss to her cheek, which made Vaylin turn about fifteen shades of red. Apparently, spending half a year alone on Nathema healing the planet was one thing, but a public display of affection - even so small as a kiss to her cheek - was entirely another for her. Today was a good day for Vaylin; she still went days or weeks at a time without leaving her quarters, took to hoarding food from the cantina, or went into manic episodes. But Thastre had been endlessly patient with her, and they were clearly very good for each other.

Maraalor smiled a little and took a spoonful of ice cream.

“Maple?” he asked through a mouthful.

“Of course! It is the best kind, after all.”

He took another bite - yep, the stomach ache he was going to have later would be totally worth it. He deserved this. He deserved the ice cream. He deserved to be around people who were happy and in love without constantly thinking about his own crumbling relationship.

“Thank you, Vaylin,” he said after another spoonful.

The grin in response lit up her entire face and Maraalor couldn’t help but smile with her.

\---

“Have you and your wife ever gotten into a fight before?”

The Twi’lek stopped what she was doing and looked at Theron, hesitating before she replied, “Of course. It’s natural to have disagreements with your partner. You are two separate people spending large amounts of time and energy together, it is inevitable that you will have opposing views on something.”

He pursed his lips together, flinching when she pulled off the last of the bandage on his shoulder to replace it. Toh’laji had apparently replaced Maraalor as his primary physician, and she was nice enough, and certainly very good at her job, but, well, she wasn’t him. Her skin was a sort of muted gold, her lekku and face were marked with dark tattoos, she was older than his parents - which was sort of weird to think about - , and on top of that, she was retired military, having served for the Republic for nearly thirty years. The only reason she wasn’t a well known name was that she was quiet, liked to work in the background rather than for any glory. And she wasn’t the leader that Colonel Aoide was, either. But she was a damn good doctor. Good enough that Maraalor trusted Theron to her.

Well... maybe that wasn’t a ringing endorsement at this point.

“Why do you ask, Theron?” she asked slowly, interrupting his thoughts.

He paused. She didn’t immediately assume that he was trying to piece together his own broken relationship - maybe that meant word hadn’t spread as fast as Jonas implied?

“No reason,” he replied, “Just trying to make small talk.”

Toh’laji stepped back and crossed her arms over her chest, scowling, “An odd question to make small talk about. Usually people ask about the weather.”

Theron shrugged with his uninjured arm and looked at his hands in his lap, “I could ask about that if you’d rather.”

She stepped back up to his side and moved his arm carefully, eliciting a painful whine from him. She marked something on the datapad beside her and perched on the bed in front of him.

Yeah, she definitely knew.

“Theron,” she started, “What happened between you and Maraalor… It isn’t the same thing as a lover’s quarrel. You know that, right?”

He nodded, unable to meet her soft lavender eyes, “I know.”

Toh’laji put a hand to his forearm gently, “You do know what you did, right?”

He looked up at her, trying to discern her meaning from her face, but she was basically a brick wall, “In terms of breaking the Alliance? Or making my apology about my pain and not his? Because Jonas already talked to me about the second one, and I’d prefer not to think about the first one, to be honest.”

She nodded solemnly, “I’ll talk to Maraalor. See if you two can’t get this sorted out.”

“You’d do that?” he asked, the tiniest glimmer of hope in his gut.

Toh’laji stood up slowly, releasing his forearm, “I can’t apologize for you. But yes, I’ll talk to him about coming to see you.”

“But why?” The only person who’d done anything for him that wasn’t strictly medical was Jonas. And their complicated history deserved a book of its own.

“Because it’s the right thing to do,” she replied, “You and Maraalor are the saddest pair of boys I’ve ever seen, and it would be wrong to do nothing when I had an option to do _something_ about it. I have worked with both of you for six years, and I admire both of you. You deserve better than the misery you’re putting yourselves through, despite what happened on Nathema.”

Despite having gotten the Eternal Fleet blown up, having facilitated Zakuul’s abandonment of the Alliance, having removed the deterrent keeping the Sith Empire and Galactic Republic at a truce, having attempted actual murder of the Alliance Commander at least three times, and having lost the Gravestone, crushing the souls of both its captains, someone genuinely was trying to help him. He didn’t know whether he was glad the remaining Alliance members still had a heart, or he felt even more guilty for destroying the only major galactic player with a conscience.

But regardless, it was nice to be reminded that there was still good in the galaxy.

\---

_He blew right by Revan’s image. The door behind the terminal rattled. Blaster shots. Footsteps._

_He forced the door open with his lightsaber, pink and purple light casting shadows on the room beyond._

_Droids and Revanites in front of him. Threw up a shield and sprinted past them. Sprinted through the maze of prison cells and interrogation rooms, past dozens of droids, past even more men. The shield held up, but he reflected just as many blaster shots back to their owners with his lightsaber as he did to the floor with the shield._

_Rounded a corner and almost flipped right over a table propped up in front of him. A blaster shot up over the top of the table, spiked brown hair and golden eyes just peering over enough to get a good aim._

_“Theron!”_

_Immediately the blaster went down, but another Revanite came around the corner. A shot rang out._

_Hit the lightsaber. Theron slumped to the floor, holding onto Maraalor’s hand as hard as he could. There were claw marks around the implant in his forehead, bruises and cuts on his face, and he held his side with a grimace so hard he could barely open his eyes. They’d fucking tortured him. Those kriffin bastards._

_He felt electricity gathering in his fingers as his anger and his fear threatened to flood out of him._

_“Should’ve known you’d come rescue me,” Theron rasped, squeezing his hand even tighter as Maraalor crouched in front of him._

_“Maraalor,” Raelyn’s steady voice filtered through his earpiece, breaking his line of thought, “Do you have Theron? This place is going to blow pretty soon.”_

_“Self-destruct sequence,” Theron muttered, “Shit. Help me up, we gotta stop it.”_

_He opened his mouth to protest, but Theron shook his head._

_“No time to argue.”_

_Maraalor put his hand to Theron’s face to ease the worst of his pain, finding purple waves of energy flow out of him. It startled him, but like Theron said, no time to argue._

_He hauled Theron up to his feet and wrapped his arm around him, taking his weight as he threatened to fall over._

_“Don’t you dare die on me, Theron Shan,” he said, hauling both of them back the way he’d came._

_“Wouldn’t dream of it,” came the hoarse reply, “Haven’t told you half the things I want to yet.”_

He snapped open his eyes from his meditations, swearing and grumbling as he stood up and looked over the datapad of Theron’s medical files.

Was it petty to switch assignments with Toh’laji so he didn’t have to face a conscious Theron? Probably. Was it petty to avoid all contact with Theron for two weeks? Yeah. Did that stop him from doing either of those things? Absolutely not.

So Maraalor was surprised to see that Toh’laji had snuck into his office while he had meditated and actually sat down in one of his chairs, elbows on the desk like it was hers. This was very much unlike the retired Major. She was confident, sure, but she was far more likely to get the title of “reserved but smart grandma” than “stealthy badass grandma”.

“Hello, Maraalor,” she said calmly.

“Did you even knock?” he retorted, immediately chastising himself for his tone.

She nodded, “I did, but you were meditating. I decided to wait here for you to finish rather than come back later.”

“Is something wrong? Does something need my attention?” he asked, donning his white medical coat again.

“Theron Shan.”

His heart stopped in his chest. Like a traitor.

Suddenly his throat was dry, so he swallowed, “What’s wrong with Theron? His tests all look normal, his vitals are fine.”

She reached across the desk and took his hand, “He’s miserable. And so are you. You two have to get this whole thing figured out before it destroys you both.”

Maraalor sat in his desk chair with a thud, staring at the hallway beyond her. He _was_ miserable. Miserable beyond words. Not even having his sister around seemed to help.

“ _Talk_ to him, Maraalor. Take it slowly, but talk to him.”

He shook his head, “He- he doesn’t get it-”

She squeezed his hand, “He does now. Or, he gets it more than he did.”

He didn’t really have another argument lined up. Other than he just didn’t want to. It was going to be awkward and uncomfortable, and he just didn’t want to deal with that.

He got the feeling Toh’laji wouldn’t let it slide because of that.

So he took a deep breath, “Okay. But walk with me? I might chicken out if you don’t hold me accountable.”

The elderly Twi’lek smiled, the wrinkles on her face stretching as she did, “I’d be glad to.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Caoimhe Namis - a direct descendant of my Jedi Exile, and my Arcann romancer. She's lived most of her life on the Ebon Hawk out in Wild Space, drifting from port to port, making as little human contact as possible. Partially because she makes Force bonds with everyone she meets, and partially because she's one hell of an agoraphobe. At some point there will be fic dedicated to her and Arcann. For now *Will Smith pose* (In my canon, my Revan and Jedi Exile are half-sisters, making Caoimhe some kind of cousin to Theron)
> 
> Also gentle warnings for mentions of shoulder/chest pain

When Theron looked out into the hallway for the millionth time, he didn’t actually expect Maraalor to be standing there, saying something to Toh’laji before she left his side. He visibly took a deep breath, and Theron tried to sit up a bit straighter - with only minimal success. There was a pit in his stomach and he put the datapad down on his lap, hoping he didn’t look as nervous as he felt.

Maraalor, as always, wore his heart on his sleeve. His hands were shaking, he was nibbling at his lower lip, the tips of his lekku were twitching and curling around his hands. He remembered Maraalor doing the same all the way back on Rishi when they’d made it back to camp after Theron had escaped Revan’s capture. He’d paced and worried the whole time the girls and Jakarro had gone out to stop the battle above the planet, had taken to holding Theron’s hand whenever it became too much for him. It was the first time Theron realized he was in love with him. First time he realized he had been in love period.

“Hello, Theron.”

His heart stopped in his chest and he just looked at the Togruta. He traced the vivid swirls in his montrals and lekku with his eyes, remembering the night on Yavin IV when he’d memorized them all as Maraalor slept. He looked from his montrals to his bright green eyes and he wasn’t sure he was going to breathe again.

Maraalor offered him a small, courteous smile. The kind of smile he offered Sith Lords when they vastly outnumbered him at a negotiating table.

“Theron?”

He faked a cough to clear his head, “Sorry, just, uh. You know… Hi… Maraalor.”

He pulled over a chair and sat down on it, rubbing his thumb over the little scar on his chin.

“Hello,” the Togruta said again, “How are you feeling?”

Theron laughed before he could stop himself, “Physically? Or emotionally?”

Maraalor looked down at his lap, folding his hands neatly over each other, “Physically, first.”

“Other than my ass hurting from laying for so long, I’m alright. Shoulder and chest still hurt when I move them, but at least they’re moving.”

“And emotionally?”

Theron swallowed and hesitated, not sure how to proceed. Silence fell as he thought, looking at Maraalor for answers.

Maraalor, as always, seemed to sense his discomfort, “From what I hear, you’re pretty fucking miserable.”

“That about sums it up,” he admitted quietly, looking back at his own lap.

“If it makes you feel better,” Maraalor continued, “I’m also pretty fucking miserable. And I have a feeling it’s about the same thing.”

Before he could even reign himself in, Theron started, words cascading over each other, interrupting each other, all the thoughts of the last two weeks crashing out of his mouth at the same time, “I’m so sorry for hurting you, Maraalor. We made a promise to each other to be open and honest, no matter the circumstances, and I broke that promise. I couldn’t find an alternative at the time, but I should have. I should have told _you_ about Zildrog, if no one else. I actually should have thought more in general before I went off and joined them, but I was really going to save that talk for when Raelyn came by - is she alright, by the way? Are you alright? Of course you’re not alright, you just said you were miserable-”

Maraalor put a hand up, and Theron could swear he was holding back a smile, “Easy, Theron. You’ll hurt yourself. Raelyn is mostly alright. I’m… also mostly alright.”

“What can I do to make it up to you?”

The little smile fell to a frown and he hesitated to answer. Every second that passed twisted Theron’s gut even further, the little glimmer of hope threatening to be snuffed out.

Finally, Maraalor took a deep breath, “How long were we dating, Theron?”

The “were” sent a little pang through him. He’d known that they’d essentially broken up when he left Raelyn to die on that train, but hearing Maraalor confirm it - even in the roundabout way he just did - hurt him far more than he’d like to admit.

“Uh, seven, eight years?”

“And after eight years, you still need me to tell you what you can do?”

Theron visibly deflated, letting out a painful sigh. He knew it was a risk to reach out to Maraalor, but he did it anyway, taking hold of his wrist and looking at him earnestly, “I screwed up a lot in our relationship, Maraalor. Even before this, we were far from perfect, and I didn’t do a lot of things I should have done. I don’t want to screw up my last chance, too.”

Maraalor blew out of his nose in a half-laugh, “We’ve always been a bit of a hot mess, haven’t we?”

The Togruta put his hand over Theron’s and squeezed gently.

“For now,” he continued, “get better. Start with that. Then we can go from there, see where it takes us.”

“Maybe this is the fresh start we needed,” Theron replied, grinning, “Maybe I did us a favor by betraying the Alliance.”

Maraalor immediately glared at him and pulled his hands out of his grasp, “Too early, Theron.”

“Right, right. Sorry.”

\---

“Ow! Do you have to yank it?”

Maraalor sighed, “It wouldn’t hurt if you’d been doing your exercises instead of laying in bed moping.”

Theron grumbled something incoherent.

In the last two weeks, Maraalor had once again become his primary physician and they’d actually had some conversations. But there was absolutely zero mention of anything related to the Alliance, to Zildrog, or even to their shared past adventures. And it was clear that they were not simply sliding back into their relationship - they were strictly patient and doctor. Friendly, but not romantic.

Also in the last two weeks, Theron had begun physical therapy in earnest, trying to get himself back into a functioning human being. Which was easier said than done…

Maraalor pushed gently against his shoulder, rotating it back in what was meant to be a gentle stretch, but really just sent tendrils of intense pain down his arm and chest. Theron couldn’t help the slow whine that escaped him.

Just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore, and opening his mouth to fight back, there was a familiar and warm calming sensation through his injured shoulder.

“Mmm, better?” Maraalor asked, gently running his hands over Theron’s arm and back, the Force flowing easily out of his hands.

Theron swallowed and nodded, “Any chance we could switch it up? Call it a day?”

“Would you rather stretch and strengthen your poorly healed broken ankle instead?” Maraalor asked snidely.

He flushed with embarrassment, “Nevermind, you can keep going with the shoulder.”

Maraalor chuckled, “It’s alright, I won’t tell anyone you tripped down a flight of stairs to earn that one. As far as they know, you were fighting a krayt dragon.”

“Ha, thanks. Pretty sure absolutely no one will believe that,” he replied, “Probably better to be truthful at this point, even if it makes me look bad.”

The Togruta shrugged as he pressed and pulled at Theron’s shoulder, holding him steady with a hand planted directly on his chest. His hands were freezing against his skin, but as soon as he pulled back to take notes on the datapad beside the bed, Theron missed them against him.

“So, uh… how about them Frogdogs, huh?” he said, just to fill the void in the room. And maybe his heart. Maybe.

Maraalor side-eyed him, “Really? The Frogdogs?”

Theron shrugged, “Listen, I didn’t come in seventh in the annual fantasy huttball league by not paying attention to the scores.”

Maraalor laughed at that, really and truly laughed. It was gentle and rich and beautiful. Theron turned his head and looked back at the Togruta, noting the way his eyes half-closed when he did it, how the lines around his eyes creased. He was beautiful, too. And even if it was at Theron’s expense, he wanted to hear Maraalor laugh.

That was how he could make it up to him. At least for now.

He thought of stupid jokes, brainstormed self-deprecating and aggrandizing comments, imagined witty one-liners while he exercised. And when Maraalor came in for two hours every day, he was determined to make him laugh. He could do that.

\---

“Theron!”

He looked over at the person who called his name - Caoimhe Namis, his long distant cousin, sat at a table with the former Zakuulan Emperor, waving at him excitedly. Arcann gave him a little smile and a nod.

The cantina was about half-empty. Theron was perfectly content to find a table and eat by himself, especially since it was the first time he’d been allowed to roam the Alliance base since his return. He definitely felt the glares as he moved from the hospital to a private room. He felt them now in the cantina, especially as Caoimhe announced his presence - Maire was in the middle of the room, at a table with Jonas, Maraalor, and a couple others, sending him death glares. He’d never been so thankful that Maraalor had been the only one of the twins with Force powers.

But there was no malice coming from Caoimhe. Her sunshiney disposition would make a rancor smile and want to sit next to her. He looked to Arcann and supposed the truth wasn’t too far from that.

“You’re back!” Caoimhe exclaimed as he slid into a seat across from them, “It’s nice to see you again.”

Theron could feel the eyes of every other patron on the three of them, a hush falling over the room as they waited for his response. He was sure that Caoimhe noticed it, too, immediately retreating into herself as she noticed their attention on her. It definitely took some getting used to see her vacillate between incredibly endearingly friendly and pitifully timid. Arcann put a hand to her back, rubbing between her shoulders. It was painfully sweet, sending Theron lightning-quick down a hole of his own despair.

It wasn’t until Arcann cleared his throat that he came back to this plane of existence, “It will get easier, you know.”

He didn’t need to elaborate.

But of course, being Arcann, he did anyway, “As the formerly most-hated Alliance member, I have some experience with the glares. Their hatred will cool after a time.”

“How long is that?” Theron asked, “Because it’s only been four hours and I want to hide in a black hole.”

Arcann chuckled, his crooked smile far more likeable than it had any right to be, “Oh, they glared at me for a very long time. Really, until you tried to kill Raelyn on Umbara-”

“ _Arcann!_ ” Caoimhe reprimanded, sending an elbow to his gut.

Theron silently went back to his meal, wondering what might have happened if he’d made different choices. Would the Alliance have blamed Arcann for the Cult of Zildrog? Would they have blamed Raelyn? Not that it really mattered - _he_ had been the one to bring their operations to a grinding halt. _He’d_ been the one to destroy the Alliance, even in trying to save it. Theron had enough guilt and self-loathing swirling in his stomach without the additional glares from everyone around him.

Except for the second-most hated member of the Alliance and his wife. Not really a ringing endorsement.

Caoimhe reached across the table and touched Theron’s hand softly, “If you ever need anything, Theron, we’re here for you. You don’t need to be alone.”

He muttered a thank you before finding some excuse to get up and leave, discarding his tray with the others near the trash and nearly sprinting back to his quarters.

He needed to be alone.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alema'tann is Toh'laji's wife. She's also Twi'lek, was born blind (and jokes about it all the time), and she's Force Sensitive, but she's not a Jedi. She was raised by Twi'lek Priestesses, and in her adult life became a High Priestess herself.

So maybe being alone wasn’t his best idea ever.

After a couple weeks of only leaving his quarters to meet Maraalor for physical therapy every other day, Theron was about ready to go insane. Everything was a mess, more than usual. Blankets and sheets thrown haphazardly over the bed, broken or wiped datapads thrown haphazardly over the desk, towels and washcloths thrown haphazardly all over the sink in the refresher. He hadn’t even looked at himself in a mirror in like four days.

“You need to get outside,” Jonas said from the doorway, looking around the room like there was a rotting pile of filth somewhere in there. There probably was.

“No, _no_ , I absolutely do not need to go outside,” Theron protested, “Outside is where the people are and the people _hate_ me.”

“I don’t hate you. Or do I not count as people?”

Without even thinking, he threw the stylus in his left hand at Jonas as hard as could, very much forgetting that he didn’t actually have that much range of motion in his shoulder yet. The pen fell to the floor at Jonas’ feet and Theron inhaled through his teeth, falling back into his desk chair.

“Nice,” Jonas commented, finally stepping into the room and kneeling on one knee in front of Theron, pulling a bacta patch out of his pocket.

Theron waved him off, “I’m fine. _Stupid_ , but fine.”

Jonas shrugged, “Happens to everyone, babe.”

“ _Babe_? Really?”

“If you want me to be,” he replied with a wink.

Theron groaned.

Jonas patted his knee and stood, “You still should go outside, you know. Fresh air is supposed to be good for you. There’re lots of places where people won’t find you.”

“When did you become the reasonable one?”

He tsked, “I’ve always been the reasonable one.”

Theron groaned again, which made Jonas chuckle as he went out into the hallway, leaving the door open behind him.

He itched vaguely at the stubble on his face and sighed. He hated when Jonas was right.

\---

He zipped up his red jacket as the cool breeze smacked him in the face. It was autumn on Odessen, the trees turning soft shades of gold, orange, and red. The wind was far colder than it had any right to be, and even though his jacket was tight around the bandage on his shoulder and chest, it was the only comfort he had out here.

Still, it was nice to get out of his room and forget about all his problems for awhile. There was space to breathe out here, and the only eyes on him were the little animals who had wandered close to the base. He decided to take the trail up Sweethearts Hill, laughing at how ridiculously mushy the name was. But it was a relatively easy hike, and the views at the top were nice enough to enjoy for an hour or two. It also happened to be the place where Maraalor used to run to when the Alliance was too much for him. There was a sweet sort of symmetry in Theron coming to the same spot now for the same reason.

He had almost reached the top of the hill when he spotted familiar purple and white lekku off in the distance. Maraalor was facing away from Theron, toward the coursing river below. He was dressed in the robes he wore as a Jedi rather than the white lab coat Theron had gotten used to seeing, and he sat perfectly still on a cold, hard boulder with his medical kit beside him. When was the last time Maraalor had even sat still? Certainly it wasn’t a time Theron could recall, not unless there was a patient in front of him.

The lekku on his back twitched at the end.

So far, Theron and Maraalor had not met outside of the hospital, their friendship only extending as far as the walls of the physical therapy suite. But if Maraalor was here, that had to mean he was uncomfortable inside the base.

Without permission, Theron’s mouth opened and the words, “Hey, Maraalor” came out, echoing through the forest. He cringed at his own voice.

But Maraalor didn’t seem so bothered, twisting around to see who had greeted him.

“Oh, hello, Theron,” he replied, trying to sound more relaxed than he was, “What brings you out here? Did you need something from me?”

He shook his head, “No, no nothing like that. Just… needed some fresh air, I guess. Been cooped up for too long.”

Maraalor nodded, turning back towards the river now that Theron was beside him.

“Why are you here?”

He let out a sort of pained laugh, “Same reason as always, I suppose. I’m on my way to the Twi’lek village, but needed a breather. So I stopped here.”

“The Twi’lek village? I’m surprised they’re still around,” Theron noted, leaning against the boulder and looking over the river.

“They don’t exactly have another place to go,” Maraalor replied shortly, “And they’re still my patients, so without the extra help, I’ve been doing rounds myself.”

“Do you want some help?” he asked.

Maraalor looked over to him out of the corner of his eye, lifting his eyebrow as he contemplated his decision. Theron really wished in that moment he knew what was going on in Maraalor’s head. He wasn’t usually so hard to read - or, at least, he didn’t remember him being so hard to read.

“I don’t want to be a burden or anything,” Theron said, interrupting the silence, “but you look like you might need some, and it’s not like I’m doing anything.”

Maraalor smiled, and Theron only realized in that moment that he’d been physically holding back a reaction earlier, “I _do_ need some help. Company might not be bad, either.”

All the knots in his stomach released at once, and he rolled his shoulders back in an attempt to loosen the muscles he hadn’t realized he’d held taut. Maraalor just shook his head and slid off the boulder, grabbing his bag and leading the way.

\---

The Twi’lek village was lovely at this time of the year - they’d just started their annual harvest celebration to the Goddess, and colorful streamers hung over the paths that wound through the buildings. Flower petals lined the sides of the paths along with some of the more colorful fallen leaves. They certainly weren’t a rich community, but they definitely had a lot of heart. They always found reasons to make their dwellings colorful and vibrant, no matter the season, though today seemed especially joyful.

He briefly wondered if Vette was there, the only village dweller who had intimate knowledge of the Alliance, and therefore the only one who knew the full details of his betrayal. But he didn’t see her or her wife with the others.

“Hello, Maraalor!” a pale green matronly Twi’lek called from the entrance of the village. She held a cane in one hand, and waved with the other.

Maraalor grinned and hurried his pace to reach her, putting his hand on her shoulder and kissing her cheek, “Hello, Alema’tann. How are you this morning?”

“Oh, same old, same old. Still glad to be here. I see you brought the boy with you this morning - we haven’t seen him in awhile.”

Both of them blushed furiously and immediately, looking at each other and then at the ground. Theron mumbled a half-greeting, and she just smiled and shook her head.

“Is your wife around?” Maraalor asked, clearing his throat.

Alema’tann nodded, “She’s at the Statue of the Goddess, preparing for the feast today. I told her you’d escort me there, if you don’t mind.”

The elderly Twi’lek was not a Jedi, but her Force powers were well known to anyone who had even heard her name. It was likely that Maraalor hadn’t even told her he was coming today - she just knew instinctively that he would and planned accordingly.

He slung his bag off his shoulders and handed it to Theron before offering Alema’tann his arm.

“Shall we?” he asked, giving her a wink despite the fact that the only thing more well-known than her Force powers was her blindness.

She giggled regardless, “Such a gentleman!”

The two of them paraded down the main road arm in arm with Theron trailing behind, trying to hide just how red his cheeks were. So when Alema’tann and Maraalor were greeted with raucous applause and cheering when they entered the town square, Theron was content to slip in quietly behind them, just watching as Maraalor greeted them individually, his hawk eyes scouring the crowd for anyone who might need him.

Toh’laji met them as soon as they arrived, the towering golden Twi’lek taking her wife, conferring with Maraalor for a moment, and then returning to the center of the festivities.

Maraalor immediately turned to Theron and nodded, his universal sign to follow him. So that’s what Theron did. For more than three hours, he trailed Maraalor through the village, supplying him with whatever he needed out of his medical kit as they went from house to house.

He was so gentle with everyone they met, spoke softly and clearly, explained what he was doing as he did it so they wouldn’t be afraid. It must have been at least a dozen times that Maraalor turned to leave and Theron was just staring at him with stars in his eyes. Then he’d cough and stare at his shoes until they got to the next house.

The last house they entered belonged to a young Twi’lek couple with two children, one of whom was suffering from some unknown malaise that they called Maraalor to look at.

The younger child couldn’t have been more than four years old, was a pale lavender color, and immediately attached herself to Theron’s side. Clearly, she was nervous about her older sibling being sick, and since both parents were speaking in hurried whispers to Maraalor, Theron became the safe adult. He really didn’t think he’d ever been a safe adult before in his life.

But he looked down at this tiny little Twi’lek, and he reached out to her gently. She took his hand and then clambered onto his lap, cuddling into his chest. She didn’t actually seem to fall asleep, but she was content to just snuggle against him while Maraalor worked in the other room.

At one point he came out to grab some supplies from his kit and saw the two of them just hanging out on the floor. He smiled so wide, Theron thought he might implode, having thought up to now that he wouldn’t ever see Maraalor look at him like that again. He smiled back and shrugged.

And that was the exact moment when the Twi’lek girl looked up at him and then puked all over him. And his jacket.

The Twi’lek parents came rushing in, apologizing profusely in Twi’leki and Huttese and their accented Basic, but Theron just laughed and waved them off, handing the girl to her father before attempting to clean it all up.

Maraalor laughed behind his hand for nearly an hour afterwards, which Theron decided was not the worst thing in the world. Though the puke all over his jacket meant it was going to have to get cleaned and he couldn’t wear it again for at least a week… That was a tragedy.

By the time they left, the little Twi’lek girl seemed to have worked out whatever was in her system, and her brother looked to have more color in his cheeks, already recovering with Maraalor’s help.

As they stepped back into the Alliance Base, Maraalor holding his kit again and Theron holding his soiled jacket under his arm, the Togruta looked up to him and nodded to his head.

“You’re letting your hair grow back in,” he commented.

Theron nodded, “Yeah, never really liked the shaved look, I gotta be honest.”

“It’s nice,” Maraalor replied, looking down at his shoes.

Theron blushed again, “So, same time tomorrow?”

Maraalor gave him a small smile, almost bashful in the way he hid it in one of his lekku, “Sure, why not?”

\---

The next day, Maraalor wasn’t sure what to expect. Sure, they’d had one nice day in the Twi’lek village, but every meeting with Theron that wasn’t strictly medical now sent mynocks through his stomach. Not little ones, either. There were a dozen fully grown mynocks in there and he did not like it.

He liked them even less when Theron showed up without his red jacket, trading it for a loose white shirt that was tucked into his belt in the front.

“Where to today?” he asked cheerfully, though he didn’t exactly make eye contact.

Maraalor slid off the boulder again, doing anything that would keep him from staring at Theron’s chest, “The Zakuulan refugee camp. There’s an orphanage there that doesn’t have a doctor, so I’ve taken over those duties.”

“Let’s hope more of them don’t decide to puke on me this time,” he joked.

Fortunately, he was right, and no children decided to puke on Theron. But they all decided they wanted to climb all over him and run their hands over his hair and ask a million questions about his implants and his mother.

“Lady Satele comes over and gives us candy sometimes! She’s really nice!”

“Do _you_ have candy, Theron?”

“Theron, why do you have metal in your head? Doesn’t it hurt? Is it supposed to be there?”

“How do you get your hair to be scratchy? And sticky-outy?”

He just rolled with it, patiently answering their questions and letting them hang all over him. The matrons of the orphanage were grateful to have a couple hours to catch up on chores and paperwork, and Theron genuinely didn’t seem to mind. There was more than one tickle-monster that came out, sending the children shrieking and laughing in every direction as he chose the unlucky victim and blew raspberries into their tummies.

Maraalor’s traitorous heart was doing flips in his chest every time he heard Theron talk or the way the kids laugh with him. Every time he looked over, Theron was grinning from ear to ear, making him blush and hide his face in whatever he was doing.

He knew he was in trouble when he realized that Theron’s way to make it up to him was to make him laugh during his visits, but now -

_Hoo boy was he in trouble now._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _And guilty I may be/ But don't give up on me/ In the wake of the Odyssey/ We will still be thick as thieves/ You and me still thick as thieves_ -Shinedown

It didn’t take long for word to get around that Maraalor and Theron were on good terms again, and the whole base felt a bit more at ease. People didn’t send him pitying glances, or start whispering as soon as they thought he was out of earshot. Maire no longer sent Theron the most frightening death glares Maraalor had ever seen when he joined them for breakfast. Raelyn stopped coming by his office so regularly - which probably wasn’t that great a thing, but it did mean she didn’t feel like she had to check up on him anymore so that was good.

But they still hadn’t talked about dating again. They still hadn’t even kissed again.

Maraalor knew it was because Theron was too afraid to ruin what good they had at the moment. He knew he’d have to be the one to initiate the relationship again. And he would, once he figured it all out.

For now the two of them were sitting in one of the common areas on a couch with sunlight filtering in through the tall windows. The cold was really settling in now, and the boulder on Sweethearts Hill was no longer the respite it had been a couple weeks ago. Maraalor was sitting cross-legged, the sunlight hitting and warming the left side of him as he read the newest edition of _Galactic Medicine_ and sent notes to his colleagues. Theron was napping, resting his head against the back of the couch and laying his legs over Maraalor’s lap. He snored lightly beside him, which made Maraalor smile a little wider. It did also stir the mynocks in his stomach, but he brushed them aside as best he could. A little of Theron’s skin was exposed from where his shirt rode up, and Maraalor put his hand over it gently, rubbing his thumb against Theron’s hip.

He looked up as he heard soft clacking from the doorway, expecting Kalina or Raelyn to take advantage of the quiet and use the space to meditate. But he was surprised when he saw his twin sister look from him to the man draped over his lap and back to him.

For once in her life, she saw that there was a man sleeping and kept her mouth shut, but her eyes said everything for her. She was surprised, and couldn’t decide if she was proud or if she was pissed.

Maraalor pulled up the instant messaging system on his datapad and sent her a note:

_I’ll find you later._

She replied:

_You better._

And then she was gone. Maraalor put his head back and sighed.

\---

“Well? Are you dating him again? Were you gonna tell me?”

Maraalor looked at his hands in his lap, twirling his thumbs around each other. Maire was ready for him, arms crossed over her chest, pacing the room in front of where he sat.

“We haven’t actually talked about it,” he muttered.

She blew hard out of her nose in a laugh, “He was laying on top of you while you read your boring datapad. And you _haven’t_ talked about dating again?”

“No…”

She sighed and squatted in front of him, pulling his hands out so she could hold them and look into his eyes with identical green ones of her own. Everything from the color of their skin to the geometric marks that were scattered all over their bodies was mirrored between them. The only difference was that Maire was built like a fluffy sweet roll while Maraalor was built like a stick of sinewy meat jerky. She was not a small woman, and she used that to her fullest ability.

“Is there a reason you haven’t talked about it?”

He shrugged, squeezing her hands in his, not trusting his voice to be unwavering. For months now, he had avoided thinking about it. He’d put it off, putting up a front, refusing to acknowledge it. Theron probably realized it, but was too worried to ask him point blank. Maire had no such misgivings.

“What are you afraid of, Maraalor?” she asked, tone softening considerably.

“I think… I think I’m still in love with him,” Maraalor said, nearly on the verge of tears, “After everything he’s done, after being separated for so long. I still… I still love him.”

Maire smiled, her whole face relaxing, “I know you do. We all know, Maraalor, that’s why Raelyn keeps checking in on you. It’s why Toh’laji made you talk with him. It’s why I’m here. You’ve always loved him, even when he does stupid things.”

He sniffled, desperately trying to hold back whatever emotions were spilling out, “Is it okay that I still love him?”

Maire hugged him so tight he thought he was gonna puke, “ _Of course_ it’s okay, Maraalor.”

He did start crying then, and it only took about fifteen seconds for Maire to follow. They sat together, sobbing into each other for another five or ten minutes before Maire took a step back, wiping at her eyes.

“He’s a stupid, stupid boy, Maraalor, but he makes you happy and he’s good to you.”

Maraalor laughed and wiped the little bubble of snot that came out of his nose, “He’s _so_ dumb sometimes. I think I’m attracted to morons.”

“Oh, that makes two of us, doesn’t it? Did you see what Jonas did to his toast at breakfast? He tried to convince me he could make infinite bread if he cut it a certain way.”

“ _That’s_ what he was doing? Oh, stars, he is never going to live that one down.”

\---

Of course, the two of them continued their daily rounds to the villages on Odessen. It was the one time of day where Theron could really look forward to time alone with Maraalor, just the two of them walking through the Odessen forests, bundled up in winter coats and hats, walking side-by-side on their way to each little community.

Theron was still absolutely smitten, feeling his cheeks redden every time he got a glance of Maraalor while he worked. And when Maraalor looked over to him with that same glint in his eyes, it was all over. Just when Theron thought he couldn’t love him more, he went and did something that proved him wrong.

It was getting dark now by the time they got back to base, and the cold air set in quickly. More than once, he thought about wrapping his coat around Maraalor to make him more comfortable, but he was never warm enough himself to do it.

And just as he was about to shrug off his jacket for real, Maraalor took his hand in his and wrapped Theron’s arm behind him, tucking himself into his side and leaning against his chest.

If he hadn’t been so stunned, he might have said something. But he was so afraid to ruin the moment by saying something stupid that he just didn’t say anything. He squeezed Maraalor tightly, hesitating before he kissed him lightly on the head.

Maraalor hummed softly and pressed himself tighter to Theron’s side.

They walked into the base like that, and just when they were going to split directions and say goodnight, Maraalor cleared his throat and held Theron’s hand tighter.

“Do you want to stay the night?”

\---

The artificial morning light was still dim in Maraalor’s quarters, but it was enough to wake him. Theron was pressed against his back, arms wrapped entirely around him as he still slept. He was warm and his skin was still a little slick from sweat. He breathed softly and comfortably, wrapping his legs even more tightly around Maraalor’s.

He’d nearly forgotten how good it felt to sleep with him again. How soft and warm and gentle he was. He still had the boniest hips a man could ever have, and the most teasing fingertips.

Maraalor snuggled into him further and reached his head around to kiss his shoulder.

Theron made a little “mmrp” noise, which sent Maraalor’s poor heart into an outright tizzy.

“Morning, beautiful.”

Maraalor laughed quietly, “You’ve been awake for all of five seconds and you’re already flattering me?”

“That’s just what I want you to think,” he mumbled, yawning before he pressed his head back against Maraalor’s and shifted his arms to get more comfortable.

Maraalor put his hands on top of Theron’s and squeezed, and Theron squeezed his arms around him even tighter. They snuggled in the bed quietly for a long time, breathing in unison and soaking in the other’s presence.

It was only when Theron shuddered that the spell was broken.

“Theron?” Maraalor asked, running his hands over his arms comfortingly, “Something wrong?”

He hesitated for a moment before he answered sheepishly, “Leaving you in the dark, knowing how much I would hurt you… I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for what I did.”

“I won’t pretend it didn’t hurt, Theron,” Maraalor replied, but he continued to rub Theron’s arms.

“So… What do you think? Can you give your idiot spy boyfriend one more chance? Even after being an idiot and then an ass?” Theron asked, pressing his face into Maraalor’s shoulders and squeezing him tightly.

Maraalor hummed, taking the pillow under his head and whacking Theron with it, then turning over to hit him again.

“Hey!” Theron resisted, but he was laughing, “That’s not an answer!”

Maraalor chose to wrestle him instead, careful not to overpower Theron with the Force, but using it enough to keep it even. Every time he got close enough to skin, Maraalor kissed him. On the shoulder, on the neck, on the chest, on the cheek, on the back of his hand, and finally on the lips.

“I’ll always love you, Theron, whatever comes.”

“Thank the stars,” he breathed, golden eyes glittering, “I’ll spend the rest of my life showing you how much I love you.”

From anyone else, that might have been a marriage proposal. From Theron, it was a promise of a new beginning for both of them.

Maraalor smiled gently and kissed him again, “Whatever the future holds for us, we’ll face it. Together.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading all!! I love each and every one of you! <3


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